


Whatever Happened to Numa Bril

by Bookboy



Series: Cin Vehtin [5]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clones being bros, Found Family, Gen, You didn't think I forgot Numa just because she's not Boba's little sister in BFLCM did you, because duh, clone wars Numa feel, naturally, references to the Ryloth arc, with a rebels Numa aesthetic, yeah Tup's hair got longer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24124618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookboy/pseuds/Bookboy
Summary: When her beloved uncle dies six years after the end of the Clone Wars, Numa Bril is officially alone in the galaxy. Twelve years old and lost, she decides to go looking for the only family she can think of;Her nerra.
Relationships: Boil/Waxer (Star Wars), Numa/Jek Lawquane
Series: Cin Vehtin [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631416
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

The metal deck of the passenger cruiser rumbled worryingly beneath Numa’s boots. Just the vibration wouldn’t be that bad, it was a pre-war construction that had definitely seen better days so the inertia dampeners weakening wasn’t unexpected, but the high-pitched whine that accompanied it... 

Not for the last time, she really wished she had haggled a little harder for her uncle’s house. 

Abruptly, the vibration and whine ceased, signaling their atmospheric entry was over. The bass roar of manual thrusters began as the pilot maneuvered through the atmosphere rather than space. 

Numa felt her face go a little pale, her stomach roiling as the cruiser jerked and swayed sickeningly. A particularly harsh turn almost pulled her off her feet, sending the girl lunging for a hand-hold with one hand and clutching her shoulder duffel with the other so it didn’t go sliding across the deck. Several others around her, also not expecting the movement, did the same. 

“Need a hand?” 

Numa looked up to find a tall human male standing near her, his own hand caught up in one of the stabilizer straps hanging from the ceiling, the other extended out to her, a flirty smile on his handsome face and flinty green eyes suggestively flicking up and down her slight frame. 

A blush replaced Numa’s pallor at the man’s boldness. She knew on Ryloth, girls were considered women earlier than most other worlds, but at twelve, even she was still legally a child. But that did not stop the old ways; and in turn, people of other worlds were quick to pick up on these ways. Numa had seen those girls, some younger than herself, and knew those old ways. [Nerta](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Twi%27leki) Nilim had been her protection from proposition then; now Numa had no one. 

(except maybe a pair from a battlezone far away in matching-but-not-quite armor with men, [nerra](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Twi%27leki) inside)

Numa straightened up, hoisting her bag more securely on her shoulder. “I’ve got it, thank you,” she replied, polite but distant, and turning firmly to the front, dismissing him. She could imagine his expression of confused anger at the rejection; a man as confident and handsome as he would probably be unused to refusal from any woman. Numa would be sure to avoid being alone for a few days. 

Thankfully, she did not have to ignore the man for long; it was only a few moments later that the sound of the thrusters cut and cruiser jarred, sending shocks to the knees of all the passengers. The door opened with much rusty protesting, unfolding to become a ramp and come to rest on the duracrete surface. The doorway framed a rectangle of busy spaceport, much like any other spaceport in the galaxy; save, of course, for the unusually strong presence of the Fett Clone face. 

The small crowd of passengers began to shuffle down the ramp. Numa moved with them, taking care not to collide with anyone. Once off the ship, the temporary traveling companions dispersed without a word; Numa was glad to note the man who had spoken to her head in the opposite direction of herself, less so to see the thunderous expression on his face. The Twi’lek girl moved toward the east exit, passing all manner of folk on her way. The usual port women and merchants of course, selling everything from “company” to food and drink to trinkets, along with travelers of all stripes and spacers rushing to and fro in their business. The open-topped building was strict and clean in its design, well-thought out and efficient in its layout. Its architecture was somewhat bland but solid, mostly duracrete with some clear alumina windows above to let in natural light. 

The number of clones packed into the space was startling. There was enough other humans and aliens to keep their presence from being overwhelming, but every fourth face or so was some variation of the Fett face. There were a variety of ages, decorations, hairstyles, and scars; occupations too. Many were in smart official uniforms, carrying out duties, even some in armor, but there were just as many selling from the carts or heading to board ships or simply talking with a group of companions, guffawing over disposable cups of kaf. 

Numa drew a shuddering breath. The last time she had seen so many clones in one place, she was a recently orphaned little girl, proud to have helped the kind Jedi General and her nerra to rescue dozens of other Twi’lek from Separatists and Gutkurr. 

She reached the entrance, joining the line of people wishing to enter the planet. The queue moved slowly, but it wasn’t that long before the clone in front of Numa moved away from the counter and she stepped forward. 

The clone manning the station didn’t start at the sight of an unaccompanied young girl; his brown eyes merely grew sad. He asked gently, “Is it just you, little one?” 

Numa nodded, suddenly nervous. Would they deny her admission because she was still a minor? She hadn’t considered it. 

He just sighed and tapped a few keys on his console, his tone becoming more businesslike. “ID, please.” 

She reached into her coat, pulling her slightly worn card from the secure inner pocket. She placed it on the counter, glad she didn’t have to go to her toes to reach. The clone picked it up and scanned it, tapping a few more keys before asking briskly, “Expected length of stay?” 

“Um... I’m not sure,” Numa replied hesitantly. “I’m looking for someone.” 

The clone paused. “Who?” 

“I don’t know their service numbers,” she admitted. “Their names were Waxer and Boil.” 

His eyes softened again. Swiftly, he tapped a few more keys, and a small sheet of exceptionally thin flimsi spat out of a printer. “This pass is good for a 90 day stay,” he explained, not unkindly. “Keep it on you in case a law officer asks you for your papers. Your ID too, we’re a little strict with security here. If you need, you can renew it for a small fee in the ten-day window before it expires in any Official building or port. This initial pass is five standard creds.” 

Numa nodded and got out her discouragingly baggy purse. She carefully counted out the creds, mentally calculating what she could afford with what she had left. The clone nodded, collecting the creds and handing her the ID and pass in exchange. “Thank you, Miss Bril. Welcome to Cin Vhetin.” He seemed to hesitate, Numa pausing politely to hear what he had to say. Gently, he added, “You might try the Memorial to the Fallen first, if you don’t know where to start. Every brother who’s ever fallen in battle is listed there. Number and name. If they’re there...” he shrugged. “At least you’ll know. And if they aren’t, well, it’s a start, isn’t it?” 

Numa felt her entire being lighten as he spoke, a smile breaking out to beam across her face. A start indeed! 

“Where is it?” she pleaded, reaching up to touch his hand. It was strong and warm. He nearly blushed at the contact. 

“In the center of Memorial Park. Anyone can show you. Just ask,” he replied, a bit more brisk than before, but from embarrassment, not malice. 

“Thank you,” Numa gushed, true thanks in the phrase. “What’s your name?” 

The clone blinked. “...Dink.” 

Numa nodded, committing the man’s name and temple tattoo to memory. “Thank you, Dink.” 

Dink summoned up his own, kind smile. “You’re welcome, Numa.” 

She flashed him one more beaming grin, then turned and nearly ran into the crowds teeming around the spaceport. Dink watched bright green lekku bob through the crowd for as long as he could before she melted into the crowd. He sighed, sending a thought-prayer along with the girl. 

_ May you fly to your Boil and Waxer on wings of joy, little Numa. I hope they know what they have.  _

Physically shaking such thoughts from his head, Dink turned back to the next person in line. 

Numa arrived at Memorial Park about an hour later. Dink had been correct, and every person she had asked had been very helpful in directing her toward it. Grass carpeted the large park, well-kept paths winding through it and a few trees dotting the landscape. As she walked down the path, she could hear running water somewhere nearby- a creek, perhaps? She paid it little mind, intent on her course and continuing on the path. Occasionally she passed someone, usually a clone, and would exchange courteous nods. 

On the horizon, it appeared; the Memorial to the Marching. It was a large, square building of black, shiny stone, the exterior buffed to a sheen. No windows; just a single open entryway with a broad staircase leading up to it. Each of the three other walls sported massive, intricate carved murals; no paint or gemstone decoration, merely starkly carved images that seemed to shift in the shadows. Scenes of battlefields and death. 

She suppressed a small shiver and mounted the stone steps. Flanking the arched entryway was a pair of life-size white marble statues. Clone troopers, at parade rest, in full armor, blasters in hand. For a moment, Numa wondered if they were modeled after specific troopers. Reverently, Numa reached out to touch one’s forearm, taking strength from him for the task ahead. Then she walked inside. 

The interior was dim, made of the same black stone as the exterior. A square column of the same material sat in the center. Recessed lighting bathed the room in a gentle light, and the shape of the ceiling muffled her echoes, giving the feel of a sanctum or holy place. Benches ringed the room, black stone as well, and the ceiling was richly decorated, the only color. Vibrantly painted murals filled the black stone above, these images clearly much more patriotic than the carvings outside; the clones within celestial and imposing all at once. No one was dying in these images. Banners, proud and bold, flew over the scenes; she could not read the words. 

Eventually, she forced herself to look away from the art. The ceiling did not hold the answers she needed- the walls did. 

Every wall was filled, from top to floor, with neat, orderly blocks of carving in small, neat script. Each block was laid out with a clone’s number, rank, name, and where/when he died. Some mentioned a medal or commendation. The carved out letters were filled in with softly glinting color where the light hit it; a dozen different colors. Sometimes colors were grouped together, sometimes scattered and intermixed; there was even a large section that was nothing but a solid block of rich brown letters. Numa could not tell the rhyme or reason, though she knew there had to be one. The column was the same, but far less tightly packed and all their names filled with an opalescent silver; she quickly abandoned it when she realized these were the Jedi that had died. 

She took a deep breath, and began to read. 

It took her the rest of that day, the night, and the next day to read them all. There were so many. Others, the majority clones but some others too, cycled through in ones and twos, seeking out a few specific names and doing small rituals of remembrance before departing again. Some smiled to remember good times, others wept. None truly noticed the small green Twi’lek girl carefully examining every block. 

When she finally finished, Numa dropped onto the bench, her heart torn in between the numbness of grief and jubilant relief. So many names. So many hidden stories only hinted at by a single sentence describing their greatest military honor. But the only ones that made her want to cry were the ones that only had a number and the name of a battle. 

She stared blankly at the wall before her, only absorbing the reddish gold color of the letters that contrasted beautifully with the stone. The weight of knowledge pressed on slim shoulders. 

She had read them all, every single one. But only one fact ran through her mind with clarity, trying to drag her heart high with hope while it was weighed down with grief: 

Boil and Waxer weren’t here. 

They weren’t here, they had not died far away from Ryloth in some battle. They were somewhere out there in the universe. Maybe they were waiting for her? It didn’t matter. They were alive! And she would find them, her Nerra. She would join them, wherever they were. 

But where to start? 

The girl slumped anew, burying her face in her hands. The galaxy was so  _ big. _

A rumble from her belly reminded the girl of her more physical needs. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her limbs. Even her lekku were limp.  _ Sleep, _ she counseled herself.  _ First sleep and food. Then I can start looking. _

  
  
  


Numa started awake, momentarily confused and afraid. The small room around her was strange and dark, the firm bed not the comfy bed in her Uncle’s house. 

After a few moments, her eyes alighted on her half-open pack. Pack...? Oh, right. She had bartered for a night’s stay in this small inn over a diner/bar type place in return for fixing the plasma burner on the stove. She had fixed it half asleep and fell into bed, barely bothering to kick off her boots. 

She blinked at the ceiling for a few moments before reluctantly rolling out of the bed and heading to the ‘fresher. When she emerged, clean and alert and starving, she quickly dressed in a clean set of clothes, rewrapped her headband and lekku, and headed downstairs to the... dining room? Bar? She wasn’t sure. 

At the moment, it appeared to be relatively deserted, only an attendant behind the bar- this clone with subtle streaks of blue in his dark, long hair which was half-held back with a carved wooden clip- and a single customer sitting at the bar, that clone with a shaved head and a massive Bendu tattoo on his head and face. No one sat at the scattered tables; shades on the windows blocked out the bright morning light and bustle of the street outside, making the room seem like the hidden places behind waterfalls or a den. 

Both men looked up when she entered, their prematurely aged faces creased with curiosity and concern. Numa blushed a little to be the center of attention, but boldly lifted her chin and sat on one of the stools at the bar; a few seats down from the other two so she wouldn’t be intruding, but near enough that the attendant wouldn’t have to go far to serve her. 

“Good morning,” the attendant clone greeted her, his tone a touch reserved as he approached her. 

“Good morning,” she replied, equally cool. The coins she had left burned a hole through their bag and her trousers into her leg. “Do you have anything else I can fix for breakfast?” 

The clone quirked an eyebrow, exchanging glances with the tattooed man. “Seems I recall,” he finally replied, “That we agreed to a bed  _ and _ breakfast.” Numa’s brow furrowed. She didn’t recall that, and opened her mouth to say so, but the long-haired man waved her words away. “You must have been tired not to remember. No matter. You like nuna eggs?” 

He was gone before she could even respond, leaving her and the tattooed one alone. 

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s Tup,” he murmured, half to himself and half to the girl. Turning fully to her, he added, “Just let him. You look like you could use it anyway, kid.” He examined her a bit more closely, and she let him, finding no lechery or cruelty in the gaze. “You look like you need to talk.” 

Numa bit her lip, words pressing against her teeth at the invitation to share her burden. The clone waited patiently, taking a sip of kaf. 

“I went to the Memorial yesterday,” she finally whispered into the silence. She stared at her hands, studying the way the green of her skin contrasted to the pale brown of the counter, mostly to avoid looking at the man. It hurt to force the words out, but at the same time, it was a relief to tell this to someone else. “Or... no, day before yesterday. I... I went there and I read all the names. Every single one.” 

There was a pause. 

“Why,” the clone rumbled out, his tone slightly pained now, “Would you go and do a thing like that, kid?” 

“I’m looking for someone,” she answered, breath shuddering. “Two someones. My nerra. Dink, the man at the port, he suggested I look for them there first; you know, just in case.” The next words were the most painful of all, and took her a minute to force out in a whisper. “I was so glad they weren’t dead.” Her vision began to blur, and the next words slid out, oily with shame, like an eel. “I must be wicked to be glad it was them instead.” 

“No,” the tattooed man’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade. Watery rosewood eyes lifted to meet his, startled to find he had risen to stand beside her stool. His eyes were stern. “You are not wicked to love. I see your tears, [ad’ika](http://mandoa.org), and the wicked do not weep.” He reached out, and when she did not flinch, cupped her chin in one hand, the other rising to wipe away tears with his thumb. Holding her gaze, he spoke.    


“My brothers died so you and your [ori’vode](http://mandoa.org) could be together. So the galaxy and the Republic could remain together. Do not grieve that their deaths can mean something. They would not.” A faint smile flashed across his lips. “I have a brother l love, much like you love your ori’vode. Many times, he came close to death, and every time, I was glad he did not die. Sometimes others seemed to die in his place, and still I was glad. I am not wicked for these thoughts; neither are you. So long as we never forget the sacrifice, all is well and my brothers are pleased, wherever they have marched.” 

Tears ran down the girl’s cheeks, still round with the last of childhood. With a soft whimper, half soul-deep pain and half loneliness only obliquely acknowledged but never soothed since the death of her uncle, she pitched forward into the startled embrace of this strange man. She buried her face in his soft shirt, twisted her fingers in the hem, and let her tears flow. After his initial surprise, his arms settled securely around her, warm and comforting. They stayed like that for some time, Numa silently crying and the stranger- she hadn’t even asked his name- merely holding her. 

“I leave you alone with a pretty girl for ten minutes and you already have her swooning into your arms,” a familiar voice came from the other side of the bar, playfully chiding. “Kix will be beside himself with jealousy.” 

Numa stiffened at the unexpected voice, but quickly relaxed when she realized there was no judgement in the man’s voice. 

The chest under her cheek rumbled with a chuckle, and his arms loosened a bit but did not come away. Giving her the option to pull away or stay. Numa sniffled, letting go of his shirt to scrub tears and snot from her face while staying pressed up against him. Once she felt a little less gross, Numa carefully disentangled herself and sat up properly in her seat. She knew her face was splotchy from crying, but felt no shame. If anyone would understand her tears, it would be clones. The stranger flashed her a brief but kind smile, moving to go back to his seat, but a soft touch to his arm made him stop. 

“What’s your name?” Numa asked in a small, hoarse voice. 

“Jesse,” he replied. 

Numa nodded, then turned to the longer haired one. “And yours?” 

He smiled boyishly, like she hadn’t just been sobbing in his brother’s arms and the heaviest subject of conversation had been merely the weather, answering, “Tup.” 

Numa considered them both, finally mustering up a small smile and a “Thank you. Both.” Jesse inclined his head in acceptance, and Tup waved his off. Numa bit her lip, glancing down at the plate of nuna eggs topped with cheese and toasted bread that had materialized before her, a cup of kaf on the side. “Would you both sit with me and talk a while?” 

Jesse hesitated only a second, but by the time he murmured, “Sure,” Tup had already moved Jesse’s cup of kaf to the place next to Numa. Jesse glared lightly at his brother. Tup just grinned and refilled his own mug. 

“So, where are you from, little one?” 

The conversation was slightly stilted, the girl still a little weary, Jesse a poor conversationalist, but Tup doggedly kept it alive. Slowly, the three relaxed in the other’s company. Eventually, Jesse was comfortable enough to ask gently, “Who are you looking for, Numa?” 

The girl paused, but only for a heartbeat, and when she answered, her tone was conversational instead of pained, which she decided to count as a bonus. “My nerra. I never learned their numbers, and I doubt I would remember even if they told me at that age. But their names are Waxer and Boil.” 

Jesse’s brow immediately furrowed, but Tup just looked curious. “That sounds awfully familiar,” Jesse hummed, then asked, “Do you remember what unit they’re from?” 

Numa shook her head forlornly. How little she knew! She’d never find them at this rate. 

“Where did you meet them?” Jesse added, his voice thoughtful. 

“On Ryloth, my home planet,” she immediately responded. “They were part of the Battle of Ryloth.” 

“Lots of brothers were in that one,” Tup sighed, obviously on the same thought track as Numa. 

“What color were they wearing painted on their armor?” Jesse pressed on, both his companions surprised. 

“Orange,” Numa answered, certain. “Orange like G’ha- the second moon of Ryloth,” she explained at Tup’s confused look. Jesse, however, looked triumphant. 

“Now I remember!” he burst. “Waxer and Boil were scouts with the 212th, under General Kenobi. Kix used to complain about your nerra whenever we were connected with the 212th- they’re the types that self-medicate. They stayed in the GAR for a while after the War’s end, I think. All the 212th Vode keep in touch- I’ll call on Gearshift, he or someone else down the line will know.” 

Numa couldn’t contain herself. With a joyous cry, she threw herself at him again, this time crying tears of joy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she chanted, sometimes in Basic, sometimes in Twi’leki, against his shoulder. 

Tup sighed dramatically. “Again? I’m starting to feel left out.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Numa slid down from the stool and ran around the bar to collide with Tup’s middle. He sputtered, but hugged back, ignoring Jesse’s smirk. 

  
  


That afternoon, Numa was out front fixing a speederbike for one of the regulars of “Jaig's”, when Jesse greeted one of the clones entering for the noonday rush. 

“Gearshift! Come sit with me, vod.” 

She longed, desperately, to run over and beg the man who sat beside Jesse to tell her where her nerra may be, but the girl kept herself and continued to work on the bike, letting Jesse do his work. She talked with the young clone who owned the bike, managing to keep the conversation light even as her mind dwelled on the important discussion behind her. The boy, only a few years older than her, cheered when the speeder bike fired up and thanked her profusely, pressing a few credits into her hands before speeding off. Numa smiled after him and quickly tucked the creds away into her purse, then turned to look back into the dining area. 

She managed to catch Jesse’s eye, sending him a pointed, hopeful look. He waved her over. The man he was with, Gearshift, looked up to examine her as she approached. He appeared to be about the same age as Jesse, his short hair having designs carefully shaved into it. When she reached them and sat, Jesse introduced her. 

“This is Numa. Boil and Waxer’s [ad](http://mandoa.org).” 

Numa did not understand the word, but Gearshift’s eyes softened. “[Adiik](http://mandoa.org), more like,” he hummed. He inclined his head minutely to her, Numa returning the gesture. 

“Do you know where to find my nerra?” she asked him. He sighed and shook his head. 

“Boil and Waxer are terrible at keeping in touch. After the Vote, they spent time at the farms. Last I heard of them they were headed to Dantooine, to learn from the brothers in the Gwydr clan. But that was two years ago.” 

Numa’s expression fell, then firmed with determination. “Then I shall go to Dantooine.” 

Jesse’s gaze became concerned. “Now?”

The girl nodded. “I do not want to waste a moment.” 

  
  
  


Jesse managed to convince her to stay a week, to rest and prepare properly for her next journey. He and his [fira](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Twi%27leki), Kix, invited her to stay with their family, which included themselves and five of the youngling clones; their adopted sons. Two, Het and Bo, were a few years older than her, and took great pleasure in teasing her like they did their younger brothers. The younger three, Stat, Eeh and Duc, were about her age. The boys introduced her to their friends, a motley mismash of clone boys of various ages, the younglings of immigrants here, and former slaves with no home to go to. She played with them in the mornings and evenings, and when they were in school, spent her days in Jaig’s with Tup, fixing mechanical things for anyone around in exchange for a few creds, bolstering her funds. Tup reached out to a friend in the Anthualla shipping company on her behalf as well, managing to vouch for her well enough to secure her passage to Dantooine as an Engineering Apprentice. She thanked him with a hug and a kiss on his cheek. 

The girl found herself being adopted by the brotherhood; not just Jesse and Kix and Tup and the boys, but any brother in her vicinity who found out that she was the ‘ad’ of two of their brothers wound up adopting her by proximity. It was an easy camaraderie the clone brotherhood shared, the bonds between them tight, even with the younger clones that had never seen battle and the many outsiders that had been adopted in as Numa had. They welcomed her into their circle; they shared all with her, and she was never alone unless she wanted to be. 

Numa left on a misty morning, Tup, Jesse, and Kix seeing her off. She gave each a heartfelt hug and whispered a personal goodbye into their ears, calling them her nerra as well. They had earned that, taken care of her like Boil and Waxer had, and deserved the same mark of respect and affection. 

Part of her yearned to stay with these men, her nerra, and she seriously considered it. But her other nerra were still out there, somewhere. She knew where these three were, that they were safe and happy; what of her first nerra? She had to know. They understood; of course they did. 

Boarding the  _ Kaliida _ , she left a piece of her heart with them, and knew she would return. 

“Destination approaching. Hyperlane exit in 10 minutes.” 

Numa looked up from her datapad at the navcomputer’s warning, her experienced eye sweeping over the displays and flashing lights in front of her. With the ease of long practice, she began to prepare the  _ Chee _ for hyperlane departure, humming a merry tune. 

The  _ Chee _ was a small, sleek messenger/passenger ship, barely big enough for five, with two two-man berthing cabins, a single shared refresher, a tiny galley, and a small storage/cargo hold directly accessible from the outside. The rest was mechanical systems, propulsion, and the small cockpit that also had a bunk in the wall for a pilot or co-pilot. It was a little cramped, but handled beautifully and moved like a professional fighter. Strong shields, but no guns; characteristic of both a craft from Naboo and a craft meant for speed rather than combat. She had won it in a bet on Naboo from one of the Anthualla clan; she had been afraid of bad blood because of it, but even the young man she had won it from laughed and clapped her shoulder in congratulations, admitting that she had won fair and square. 

Once they were within two minutes of hyperlane departure, she pressed the comm button on the console and called, “T’lak, Kier? Buckle in, we’re departing hyperspace in two.” 

“Heard,” T’lak called back from where he was in the galley. Kier was probably with him, so Numa didn’t bother to wait for a reply from him. The two brothers were older than her but young by Vode standards, members of one of the later generations after the end of the war, but despite that were Vode to their core. Numa had picked them up on Mandalore, since they were all going the same way, and over the trip the three had become firm friends. 

The computer began to count down to the hyperlane exit, Numa quickly strapping herself into the pilot’s seat. Abruptly, with a rattle and a lurch, the streaming nothing outside the viewscreen crystalized into an image of a planet, suspended in space. A small, pale moon floated a little further away, picturesque and peaceful. The planet was blue, with patches of green, brown, and some white at the poles. 

A voice came over the radio, only slightly crackling from the distance. “Unknown craft, this is the  _ Aran _ , with Cin Vehtin Space Control. State your name and purpose.” 

A grin broke over her face at that familiar yet strange voice, and she heard the brothers enter the cockpit behind her. “Space Control vessel  _ Aran _ , this is the private vessel  _ Chee. _ We intend to land in Aloriya Spaceport, delivering passengers.” 

“Acknowledged,  _ Chee. _ You are clear to land at Aloriya Spaceport, communicate with them as you approach for docking information. Welcome to Cin Vehtin.” 

“Thank you,  _ Aran _ . It’s good to be back.” A hand clapped on her shoulder, and she looked up at T’lak with a grin. He grinned brightly back, his more somber brother also finding a small smile at the view beyond. 

Descent into the atmosphere went normally, and within minutes she was in contact with the spaceport. She was directed to land in one of the smaller vessel berths, the durasteel door opening as she approached and sliding shut behind her. The three companions chatted as they disembarked, giddy to be home again. Numa registered her vessel with the spaceport and paid for three days of docking at one of the automated machines, then the trio headed off to the immigration desk. 

Aloriya Spaceport was much like Numa remembered it; busy, open, full of Fett faces. The line moved quickly, but even so it was ten or so minutes before T’lak stepped forward. The brother manning the desk barely glanced at him before saying, “ID. 30 day or returning resident?” 

“Returning resident,” T’lak replied, sliding his ID across the desk. The older man scanned it, typed furiously for a few moments, then handed him the card back. “Welcome back, vod.” 

“Thanks,” he smiled, then stepped aside so the process could be repeated with Kier. Finally, both brothers were registered as being back on the planet and it was Numa’s turn. The immigration agent noticed neither Kier nor T’lak moved away, obviously waiting for her, but didn’t comment. 

“ID,” he requested. She handed over the worn card, making a mental note to get a new one soon. He scanned it and typed a few lines, then asked, “Expected length of stay?” 

“Actually, I want to apply for resident status,” she replied. 

He glanced in the brother’s direction, obviously drawing his own conclusions, but didn’t hesitate. He reached down into a drawer below the counter and drew out a sheet of flimsi, pushing it toward her. “Please fill this out in its entirety.” 

She took up the provided stylus, quickly filling out the single page then handing it back to the agent. He barely glanced at it before scanning it into his console and then typing some more. Another sheet of flimsi spat out of a printer, and he handed both it and the application she had just filled out to her. “This is a probationary resident visa. It’s good for one year. At the end of the year, if you haven’t been evicted from the planet for any reason, you should report back to the local Official Building and fill out a permanent resident form. Keep the original for your own records, if the holo application is lost you must provide it for re-application. You must have proof of residence and employment at the time you apply. A complete list of terms and requirements can be found at any Official Building or requested through the holonet.” He paused, giving her a moment to digest his speech, then asked, “Any questions?” 

“Not about the visa, no,” Numa replied, folding the flimsis and tucking them securely away in her pack. “But I was wondering if Dink still works here?” 

The agent blinked. Obviously he hadn’t expected that. “He does, but it’s his day off.” 

“Oh,” Numa sighed, deflating a bit. 

“I could take a message?” the agent offered shyly. 

Numa felt herself brightening again. “That would be perfect! Thank you. Do you have a spare piece of flimsi?” She took the scrap he handed her, scribbling quickly. She then folded it in half and handed it back to him. “Thank you again. What’s your name?” 

“Darah,” he replied, bemused. 

She graced him with an extra big grin. “Thank you so much, Darah.” Giving a little wave, she turned away from the counter and rejoined the brothers. The trio exchanged hugs and promises to write over the net on the steps of the spaceport, then they parted ways. 

Jaig’s was exactly where she remembered it. For a moment, she simply stood across the street, carefully drinking in the sight of the inn. She spied Tup laughing behind the bar through the doorway, a grin spreading across her face at the sight. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, the girl dashing across the street and inside. Every eye looked toward her when she burst through the door, but she only had eyes for her nerra. 

A grin lit up Tup’s face like a sunrise. Nimbly, he vaulted over the bar, striding up to meet her, his arms open to receive her. Numa happily ran into his arms, burying her face in his chest. 

“[Su cuy’gar, Vod’ika](http://mandoa.org),” he murmured fondly, petting her lekku, and Numa reveled in the greeting. With a final squeeze, he pulled back and held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “Look at you! So tall. And you got tattoos!” 

Numa preened under the praise. “[Vor’e](http://mandoa.org), Nerra Tup. It’s good to be back.” 

Tup blinked at her before beaming again. “You learned Mando’a!” he crowed, as proud as if he had taught her himself. 

“The Vode dialect,” she shrugged, still smiling. “I’m not fluent.” 

“Still, you have learned much on your travels,” Tup insisted, throwing a brotherly arm around her shoulders. “Come sit and tell me all about it. Did you ever find Boil and Waxer?” 

Numa sighed, sitting at the bar. “I think I finally know where they are. I haven’t gone to see them yet.” 

Tup paused in pouring her a glass of a'pp'e juice, a new beverage the Lawquane farm had started putting out last fall made from one of the native fruits of Cin Vehtin. He studied her expression, finding it hard to decipher. “Where are they?” he questioned gently. 

Numa snorted, propping her head in her palm. “Turns out they were here all along!” she exclaimed. “They started a ranch up north, about a year before I visited here last, called Two Trees Ranch.” 

Tup’s head tilted. “That sounds familiar... oh!” he straightened, dismay spreading in his expression. “That’s one of the major meat suppliers! I didn’t realize....” 

Numa shook her head, recognizing the tinge of guilt coming on in his voice, and resting her hand over his. “No one did, nerra. It’s alright. It’s no one’s fault,” she assured him. Changing the subject, she asked, “How’s nerra Jesse, nerra Kix?” 

Tup brightened again. “They’re good. Busy. They just adopted a couple more ade, and the little ones are keeping them busy.” 

Numa smiled to hear her nerra had taken on more children. “Good. I’ll be sure to drop in on them soon, before I go up to the Ranch.” 

“They’d be pleased,” Tup nodded. “In the meantime, tell me all about your journey.” 

Numa and Tup talked long into the evening, sharing stories and drink and eventually food. Vode she met the last time she had been here and remembered her occasionally interrupted, each always pleased when she greeted them fondly by name without having to be reminded. By the time she retired to a room upstairs, belly full and soul warmed by happy thoughts, she knew her heart was finally nearly whole again. 

  
  
  


The next morning, Numa prepared herself carefully for the morning’s task. She dressed in simple, clean clothes, wrapping her head with a plain headband. When she descended the stairs, she smiled and nodded at Tup but did not stop to talk or for breakfast. He did not stop her, recognizing the somberness of her air and guessing at her task. 

Numa walked sedately to the park, meandering through the trees. She smiled faintly to hear the babbling of the artificial brook; she had played in it with the other children the last time she had been here during that wonderful week. Only now did she recognize the good it had done her to reclaim a small part of her childhood, playing with them so innocently. 

It wasn’t long before the Memorial came into view. It glistened in the morning sun, the dark stone beautiful instead of ominous. She walked slowly around it, taking in the carved murals on the outside. With a new eye, she was able to appreciate the nuance and beauty of the building like she hadn’t before. When she had been here before, she had wondered if the stone troopers guarding the door were modeled after particular troopers; this thought was immediately dismissed as she drew close enough to examine them in detail; they stood  _ too _ crisply, their bearings missing that spark of individuality that set her nerra apart from their brothers and each other. Their armor was too smooth, too new; lacking any identification or decoration. No, these were not specific troopers. They were an eternal honor guard, a representation of all the clones, standing guard over the memories of their brothers. She mounted the steps, smiling at the stone troopers guarding the door and touching each softly on the arm before going inside. Like before, her eyes immediately were drawn to the murals on the ceiling. This time, she found she could read the banners that flew over the scenes. 

“‘I’m alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal’,” she whispered to herself, the familiar cadence of remembrance the easiest to recognize. She turned to the next. “‘Not gone, merely marching far away.’ ‘Don’t mess with a Brother.’” The last of the four murals, the one directly over the entrance, had two. “‘A Brother never forgets.’ ‘Thank you.’” 

Numa stood still in the center of the room, staring up at the words and contemplating them. Finally, she nodded thoughtfully and smiled, rosewood eyes sweeping over the colorful names on the walls. “I’ll remember,” she promised. Gracefully, she sank down to sit on the floor in the exact center of the room, drawing her legs up under her, resting her back against the pillar of dead Jedi, and then she began to speak. She told them all of her adventures while searching for her wayward nerra, of the new nerra she had already found, of the Athualla Shipping company and Clan Gwdyr and Naboo and Mandalore, all the places between, and all the friends and adversaries she had met along the way. She described the city of Aloriya, the city that they had helped make possible. 

She told them the tale of the Battle of Lessu, from the perspective of a frightened, newly orphaned girl; a tale she had never told before. 

Eventually, she ran out of stories, exhaling a long sigh. “I wish you all could see this place too,” she murmured, resting her cheek on her knee. “I wish that I could have met you all, so I could remember you properly. But I will come,” she promised. “I will come every year on this day and tell you my adventures until I am old and wrinkled. I will carry the memory of your sacrifice in my heart, always, and live my life in honor of that memory.” Smiling distantly, she slowly rose, stretching out her stiff limbs. “Maybe even one day I will bring my children, and I shall teach them to keep your memory too, and they will teach their children the same. Then you truly will never be forgotten. That would be nice, I think.” 

She slowly circled the room, fingertips trailing along the cool stone, catching in the cuts of the letters, quietly reciting the Remembrance. When she completed her circuit, she blew a kiss to the room at large, calling, “Wish me luck, Nerra!” and departed. 

  
  
  


She stayed three days in Aloriya, resting, visiting with the Vode, and gathering the courage to make the final leg of her journey. The first evening and day she spent with Tup at Hardcase’s, helping her nerra Tup. She talked and laughed and blushed shyly when the younger brothers would flirt haltingly with her, and she kindly flirted back, like the girl cousins of the Anthuwalla Clan had taught her. She played Sabbac and Pirate’s Hand with the older Vode and children’s games with the younger; repaired all manner of mechanical things and taught others to do the same. She told anyone who asked about her adventures in the galaxy. 

On the second evening of her stay, she visited her nerra Jesse and nerra Kix in their home, reuniting with the boys and meeting their three new ade. All three were former slaves, adopted from the creche, too young to remember where they had come from and without enough records to return them to their homes, if they even had them. Tii and Sii were a pair of Twi’leki twins a few years younger than Numa, the boys wide eyed and sweet and thick as thieves with their older brothers. The youngest was a human toddler, just barely too big to be called a baby, that they had named Netra for her nearly black, bottomless eyes. 

The boys were ecstatic to reunite with their wayward cousin, happily bringing her back into their fold like she had never left. The twins were hesitant at first, but once reassured by their brothers’ reactions, very excited to tell her about their upcoming lifeday celebration, which they were celebrating jointly, and starting school the upcoming school year. Netra observed them all solemnly from her baby chair, thoughtfully chewing on a toy. 

The evening was a success, the boys eager to have a new playmate and their parents proud to observe the young woman that was emerging in their vod’ika. As the hour lengthened, the boys began to drift off one by one to their evening tasks and distractions, until all that were left were the twins and Netra. While Jesse rounded up the younger boys and laughingly but firmly put them to bed upstairs, Numa went to Kix, leaning into his side, under his arm. He gently hugged her with one arm, asking softly, “Are you nervous to go?” 

She had already told them that she had found Boil and Waxer and where they were, as well as her intention to visit them. She nodded, absently reaching to pat Netra’s back where she drowsed in Kix’s other arm. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I find them.” 

“Do you not think they’ll be pleased to see you?” Kix probed gently. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered fearfully. “It was so long ago the last time we met. And even if they are, what then? They are ranchers, Kix. I’m a mechanic. What use would they have for me?” 

“Nonsense,” Kix scoffed dismissively. “A mechanic is always useful. And even if you weren’t, you are a bright, resourceful girl, capable of learning anything you want. But even forgetting that, if they weren’t ecstatic to see you again, they’re [shabuir di’kut,](http://mandoa.org) the both of them.” 

A laugh startled out of the girl, Numa looking up at her nerra with a wry smile. “That’s not very nice,” she scolded playfully. 

“If they turn you away or hurt you, Num’ika, I’ll be far meaner than that,” Kix muttered darkly, the words sounding more like a vow than anything else. Numa’s smile turned fond, the girl wrapping her arms round his waist and returning his hug in thanks. “And if that happens, Force forbid, but if it does, I want you to know that you’ll always be welcome here.” 

“I second that,” Jesse chimed in from the staircase. “At the very least, you’d make a good babysitter.” 

Numa smiled at her nerra, basking in the warmth of their acceptance, in the love of her brothers. She was so happy that they also shared that love with their children. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

The morning of her second day in Aloriya Numa spent with the boys, who all scattered from the house as soon as they finished breakfast, leaving Jesse to tend to the baby, who wasn’t quite up to toddling after them yet. She went with Stat, Eeh, Duc, and the twins to play in one of the parks; quite a few had sprung up since Numa had been here last. Het and Bo had went to meet friends in a different park. When the hour turned toward midday, she escorted Tii and Sii back to Nerra Jesse for lunch, then went back to spend the rest of the day and evening with Nerra Tup again. 

The third day, she decided she had procrastinated enough. She dressed in her sturdy traveling clothes and packed her bag. Tup took one look at her on the stairs and sighed. “Breakfast first.” 

Numa left Jaig’s after a hearty breakfast and a heartfelt goodbye to her nerra, the girl offering him a promise to visit often. Tup smiled to hear her promise, and kissed her temple, merely replying, “[K’oyacyi](http://mandoa.org), Vod’ika.” and sending her on her way. 

Her first stop was the spaceport, where she renewed her parking space for the  _ Chee _ , paying for another three days. Next, a rental agency, where she rented a sturdy land speeder, and then the bodega next door for a non-perishable lunch, just in case. Finally, Jesse and Kix’s, where her nerra there also embraced her and wished her luck. As prepared as she was going to be, Numa turned northwestward and set out on the narrow road leading out of Aloriya, away from the best home she had ever known. 

  
  


Evening was closing when Numa approached the open gate of Two Trees Ranch. A cobblestoned path branched off from the main road and snaked off through a gap in the plazfence that had ran alongside the road for several miles now. A gateway arched over the path, connecting the two sections of fencing. The gate seemed to be largely ornamental, marking the stone path that led onto the property, and bearing a sign over the pathway that stated the name of the place. It could be closed, but wasn’t at the moment, and Numa had a feeling it never was. The main road continued northwest; she guided her speeder to follow the path going south. 

The ranch was beautiful, with vast swathes of gently rolling grasslands sweeping away into the distance, gradually fading into the foothills of a majestic lilac mountain range. A herd of large grazing animals dotted the landscape in the distance. Patches of dense dark green forest occasionally broke up the plains, and it was through one of these the pathway led. She cleared a bend, emerged from the copse, and a house came into view. 

It was a simple two level affair with a wraparound porch on both levels, situated on the edge of the trees and overlooking a large swathe of plain. The road terminated in a stone courtyard. She drew to a stop just on the edge of the trees, staring wistfully at the building, anxiety building in her chest. 

“Halt!”

The Twi'lek started, whipping around in her seat to face the unexpected voice. 

Two human younglings, perhaps seven, stood behind one of the low scrub bushes where they had apparently been hiding. It was obvious they were not clone. They wore makeshift play armor made from random bits and pieces over sturdy tunics and trousers, pots serving as their helmets. Each had in their hands a toy blaster, the only thing not homemade. Numa recognized them as the model kind popular in Aloriya; an exact model of a real blaster, made with the same materials and layout as a real blaster, but carefully robbed of any real danger by removing the connectors between the (uncharged) power packs and the chamber. Both of their chubby faces were scrunched up in expressions meant to be fearsome and forbidding, but mostly ended up being cute. 

Numa hid her amusement, playing along and raising her hands into the air. “Stand down, Vode,” she replied in as serious a tone she could muster. “Don't shoot a friendly. I'm just looking for a couple of friends of mine.” 

The one on the right, who had smeared red markings onto his face and blaster and appeared to be in the lead, looked her critically up and down. “Who you lookin' for?” he demanded. 

“Boil and Waxer,” she replied promptly, the response almost reflex by this point. Red shared a look with his brother, who wore blue paint. 

“What’cha want with our Commanders?” Red questioned, more curious than confrontational now. Numa hesitated. A thousand responses swelled in her mouth-  _ I want to embrace them, make my home with them, share their fire and call them my nerra- _ but her fear that they would turn her away tamped them down. 

“Just to meet them,” she finally sighed. “That's all.” 

“Hmm,” Red sniffed. He turned to his brother and held a whispered debate with him, Numa waiting patiently. Finally, they reached a conclusion, Red turning back to her. 

“Advance to the courtyard,” he instructed her. “Stay there. I will fetch the Commanders.” 

“Sir, yes sir,” Numa replied gamely, guiding her speeder forward into the courtyard. Blue stayed with her, his blaster not trained on her anymore but held at the ready, obviously guarding her, while Red dashed inside as fast as he could go, holding his pot helmet on with one hand. Numa dismounted, but did not wander, as she had been told, stretching out her stiffness from riding and then leaning against her speeder, turning to Blue. 

“What's your name, Vod'ika?” she asked conversationally. “Or should I just call you Blue?” 

The boy made a face, but replied, “Mak. You?” 

“Numa.” She held other hand, offering a clasp. “Good to know you, Mak.” 

The boy regarded her hand warily for a moment, then clasped it firmly. Both looked toward the porch at the sound of a adult clone’s raised and annoyed voice. 

“Rik, I swear, you and your brother better not have detained another delivery person-” 

Red- Rik?- crashed through the screen door, an adult on his heels who stopped dead just outside the door. 

“See [Bu](http://mandoa.org), see, I told you it ain't one of the delivery people,” Rik announced proudly, not noticing the stunned look on the adult's face. Numa’s heart stood still. 

Boil had aged, lines around his mouth and eyes and gray starting to pepper his hair. He had let his hair grow shaggy, but his sharp mustache was still meticulously kept. His face and arms were tanner than she remembered, and his plain rough-woven shirt was tucked into dark trousers. Shock filled his face, softening hard brown eyes. 

“Boil,” Numa felt the name leave her lips, and her voice was apparently the trigger needed to nudge Boil into action. In two great strides, he had cleared the porch steps, and another three had crossed the courtyard, stopping just short of Numa. The girl stared up at him, similarly at a loss for words. 

A broad hand came up to reach for her face, hesitating at the last few centimeeters; his expression that of a man who thinks he's dreaming and is worried he’ll wake soon. Laughter and tears welled up in Numa simultaneously, the girl reaching up to take his hand in her own and press it to her face, her fears evaporating from her heart. A burst of movement and she was encased in a firm hug, Boil’s face pressed against the top of her head. “Numa,” he whispered tenderly into her skin, and it felt like coming home. 

“Bu?” 

The timid question from one of the younglings finally broke the spell, both Numa and Boil releasing the other with a soft laugh as the outside world came back to their consciousness, and they became aware once again of their audience. “Rik, Mak, go find your Dad,” he instructed them, his voice rough. “Tell him Numa is here.” Both boys looked at them with questions burning in their eyes, but obediently ran off around the back of the house. Once the boys were gone, Boil turned back to her, his eyes also burning with questions. 

“How did you find us?” he asked. 

Numa couldn’t help it. She laughed. She laughed until her lekku twisted and her eyes welled with tears again. Finally, when she could speak again, she answered, “With some difficulty.” Turning her face back up to her dear nerra Boil, her rose eyes shining with happiness, she added, “Invite me inside and I’ll tell you everything.” 

Boil led her inside, Waxer meeting them halfway in the kitchen. His chest was heaving, like he had been running, and his brown eyes were wild with hope and disbelief. When he saw Numa, he gave a wordless cry and feel to his knees at her feet, wrapping his arms about her in a distant echo of a similar embrace in another house far away. The girl returned the hug without hesitation, only having to bend a little to bury her new tears in Waxer’s shoulder. He had aged too, but unlike Boil, had kept his strict military haircut. A small scar on his cheek was his most striking new feature. Numa greedily drank in the sight of her first nerra’s faces, memorizing them. 

“Buir? Dad?” a new voice, not quite adult but not quite child, but definitely clone, called from the doorway. Numa looked curiously; three young Vode stood there. Two were about sixteen, the third in front of them closer to her age. All three stared at the scene in the kitchen with big, confused eyes. Rik and Mak she could see trying to peep around the older two’s legs. 

Numa couldn’t help it. Looking between her nerra in mock admonishment, she demanded, “How many children do you have?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer, Numa, is way too many. 
> 
> Sooo you guys didn't think I forgot Numa, did you? Of course not! 
> 
> Initially, I was envisioning a whole epic quest thing, with Numa visiting a bunch of different locales and using her as a vehicle to explore the further-flung impact of the Vode on the galaxy, but as I am discovering with BFLCM, I am actually awful at episodic content that gradually builds to an epic whole. In this case, I already have the beginning and ending written (plus a small epilogue!), and you don't technically actually need the middle bits to understand either, so you're gonna get the bookends first and then the middle bits as I feel like it. So there. A few other fics are referenced in this (Haruu, Scars) but neither are the direct inspiration, at least not this bit. Though they will be much larger influences in future segments. 
> 
> (Also, I present for your consideration: Cowboy Clones in Space Montana. You're welcome.)
> 
> (And if you're curious, yes, Boil and Waxer are going to be *pissed* when they find out their 212th selves gotta share Numa with the 501st now. Numa does not get the rivalry and does not care.)


	2. When Jek met Numa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue meet-cute for a rarepair no one asked for.

The late summer afternoon was warm as Jek Lawquane emerged from his parents’ house whistling a light tune. The seventeen-year shaded his eyes against the sudden brightness of the outdoors, his brown eyes sweeping over the courtyard. Most of the farmhands and this year’s class of students were in the fields still, and he could distantly hear them singing a working song in Rhodinian, but a few were busy at other tasks. Cook was drawing water from the well at the center of the courtyard, probably to start supper for the barracks. Teen was sitting with Sheeah in the shade, the two laughing as they spun wool into thread and eight-year Tonk playing noisily in the dirt nearby them. Over by the barn, a few of the newer hands were gathered around a pregnant nerf dame, discussing something with worried brows. Jek decided to go see if he could lend them a hand. 

Jek looked up from the nerf when a low hum invaded the air, squinting into the bright blue sky. A ship approached from the north, growing more distinct as it got closer. By the time it was kicking up air currents and making the poor nerf shuffle nervously, which he tried to calm with a firm pat to her flanks, it was obvious who the ship was, though it hadn’t been much of a mystery in the first place, both the direction of approach and day of the week dead giveaways. The Two Trees logo on the side merely confirmed it. Jek turned back to Nearmiss and quickly assured him that the dame was fine, but would probably be calving soon and to move her to the barn with the other calving dames before beginning to head toward the cooling ship. 

His mother emerged from the house as the ship was settling in the empty dirt of a field currently out of rotation, a friendly smile on her face, and began to head in the ship’s direction. The house was closer to the field than Jek, so she arrived first, patiently waiting for their visitor to disembark. The ramp lowered, but it wasn’t Maat or Waxer like usual. Instead, a lithe bright blue-green Twi’lek girl a year or two younger than himself and dressed like a spacer bounded down the ramp, excitement evident by her wide grin. 

“[Su’cuy](http://mandoa.org)! I’m Numa,” she greeted his mother brightly with a quick, shallow nod. “You must be Madame Lawquane, right? Nerra Waxer’s told me so much about you.” 

Jek approached them in time to hear the end of his mother’s reply, coming to stand just to Suu’s left. “... heard much about you too. Are you taking over the deliveries?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded proudly. “Nerra Boil finally agreed that I was ready to start making deliveries on my own!” 

“I can see why,” his mother replied encouragingly, returning the girl’s excited smile with a warm one of her own as the two moved to go back up the ramp to inspect the delivery. Jek followed. “It will get boring soon, I’m sure. You look the type to me to prefer space to simple planet deliveries.” 

“Well, yeah,” the girl shrugged. “But I don’t want to be too far away from my Nerra right now. So planetside it is. But someday I’m going to start my own shipping line! I’ve already done some apprenticeship stuff with Anthualla Shipping and they’ve agreed that I can get a junior captain position with them anytime.” 

Suu’s expression shifted to impressed. “A junior captain? You must have made a very big impression on them, young lady.” 

Numa shrugged and smiled modestly, offering Suu the shipping manifest. As Suu began to look over it, rose colored eyes finally drifted to Jek. Her smile turned into one of greeting, the girl bobbing her head in a casual little nod. “Su’cuy. Who are you?” 

Jek blinked, opened his mouth to reply, and found his mind was totally blank. He tried to force out a word, anything, but all that came out was a strange sort of croaking sound. He felt a blush start to color his face red as he started to silently panic. He was half aware of his mother pausing in what she was doing to turn a bewildered expression on him, but he was very aware of the girl, Numa’s, smile shift from normal friendly to a vaguely concerned ‘is-this-guy-ok’ friendly. Instead of actual actions, his mind flitted from one half formed thought to another, starting with  _ Well frak that was smooth _ to  _ Don’t get hard you’re mom’s right there _ to  _ Osik she’s pretty _ and ending with  _ KARK you still haven’t said anything SAY SOMETHING _ in what felt like eons but was really only a few seconds, all to the tune of his rising panic. 

_ What did she say? Right, she asked my name. _

“Jek,” he finally managed to burt out in a high pitched kind of squak. 

Suu abruptly spun on her heel to turn her back on the two, her shoulders shaking. Jek was pretty sure she was going to explode if she didn’t let her laughter out soon.  _ Traitor _ . 

“Jek,” Numa repeated, drawing his full attention back to her. Her eyes flicked up and down him once, her expression curious, that brief glance leaving him feeling stripped down to his soul, like she could see his every thought written on his body. Finally her eyes met his again, and a warm smile that felt like an invitation spread across her full mouth. “It’s nice to meet you, Jek.” 

Still just a few feet away from them, Jek heard his mother stifle a snort of laughter, and all the stiffness that had begun to bleed away under Numa’s smile immediately returned, along with his blush. 

“NicetomeetyoutooI’mgoingtogogetsomeguystohelpunloadbye!” Jek managed all in one breath, and quickly took his leave. Whenever someone asked later, he vehemently denied he was running. 

Or that he tripped. 


End file.
